sighs.
“You left it at home again, didn’t you?”
she says, and Gavin looks back at her. The suddenly half-guilty look on his
face and slight shrug of his shoulder confirms it. And the woman rolls her
eyes.
“Never mind,” she says, and then notices
Theo and Max. Her blue-gray eyes fall on the latter.
“Hello, Max,” she says, and Max
half-raises his hand in greeting.
“Amanda,” he says simply, and the
woman―Amanda―turns her gaze back to Gavin.
“We have reservations for tonight,” she
says, sounding a bit edgy. “Did you forget?”
Gavin just looks at her, slight confusion
on his face.
“That’s tomorrow, love,” he says, an odd
softness to his raspy voice.
Amanda frowns then, deliberating. Then she
seems to remember, and she glances away, pursing her lips.
“Right,” she says, clearly reluctant to
admit it. “My mistake.”
She looks back at Gavin, who now has a
small, affectionate smile on his face.
“I’ll see you at home, then,” she says,
pushing open the door, her tone just a bit snappy. “And don’t forget to pick up
groceries on the way.”
“Yes, dear,” Gavin says, and with that,
the bell above the door jingles again, as Amanda leaves.
Theo hears a quiet chuckle from Max, and
looks over at him.
“What?” Gavin says, and Max sighs.
“You are so whipped,” he says.
“Oi,” Gavin replies. “That’s my wife
you’re talking about.”
“See, that alone is just adorable.”
Gavin glares at the teenager, who just
smirks to himself, before settling down again and letting the artist resume his
work.
The whole thing does take several hours,
occasionally interrupted by breaks for coffee, snacks and cigarettes. Theo had
no idea how taxing something like this can be, but although his part in it
consists of just sitting there, watching, the three of them talking every now
and then, he doesn’t mind. He actually likes it. He likes spending more time
with Max that doesn’t involve making out (not that he minds that at all, but
still).
Gavin is apparently a friend of the
family; Max's father knows Amanda from college, and met Gavin through her. Over
the years, Gavin has been like an uncle to Max, and it was through him he
discovered his love of tattoos. He's also the reason Max gets a discount, hence
him having so many tattoos at such a young age. At least, that's part of the
reason; Max seems to be devoid of the usual fear of branding something very
permanent into your skin, despite being only a teenager.
Hours later, on the walk home from the
tattoo parlor, Theo can tell that Max is uncomfortable and in pain, at least
from the way he fidgets as the fabric of his clothes brushes against his sore
back. There’s a layer of plastic taped over the fresh tattoo, not to be removed
for several hours, but still.
“How’s it feel?” Theo asks, hands in his
pockets. It’s already dark outside, and it’s a bit chilly. Max shrugs,
flinching slightly as he does.
“A bit raw,” he says. “But pretty good.”
Theo nods, and Max looks at him. He
doesn’t say anything for a few moments, worrying at his pierced bottom lip.
Those black-lined eyes look just a bit less composed than usual.
“Thanks for coming with me,” he eventually
says. “I mean, you didn’t have to. But the company was nice.”
Theo feels slightly surprised at the sudden
softness in Max's rough voice, but doesn’t mention it. Instead, he just smiles
nervously.
“Yeah, well,” he says. “I would have held
your hand, but you’d probably just punch me in the face.”
He meant it as a joke, and he can tell
that Max knows that, so he’s not surprised at the small smirk he gets in
return.
He is surprised, however, when Max
suddenly stops walking, making Theo stop as well. Max then glances down and
slips his hand into Theo’s jacket pocket, taking his hand and pulling it out
into the chilly night air. Theo looks down and just stares, as Max slowly laces
their fingers together, before he reanimates
“You left it at home again, didn’t you?”
she says, and Gavin looks back at her. The suddenly half-guilty look on his
face and slight shrug of his shoulder confirms it. And the woman rolls her
eyes.
“Never mind,” she says, and then notices
Theo and Max. Her blue-gray eyes fall on the latter.
“Hello, Max,” she says, and Max
half-raises his hand in greeting.
“Amanda,” he says simply, and the
woman―Amanda―turns her gaze back to Gavin.
“We have reservations for tonight,” she
says, sounding a bit edgy. “Did you forget?”
Gavin just looks at her, slight confusion
on his face.
“That’s tomorrow, love,” he says, an odd
softness to his raspy voice.
Amanda frowns then, deliberating. Then she
seems to remember, and she glances away, pursing her lips.
“Right,” she says, clearly reluctant to
admit it. “My mistake.”
She looks back at Gavin, who now has a
small, affectionate smile on his face.
“I’ll see you at home, then,” she says,
pushing open the door, her tone just a bit snappy. “And don’t forget to pick up
groceries on the way.”
“Yes, dear,” Gavin says, and with that,
the bell above the door jingles again, as Amanda leaves.
Theo hears a quiet chuckle from Max, and
looks over at him.
“What?” Gavin says, and Max sighs.
“You are so whipped,” he says.
“Oi,” Gavin replies. “That’s my wife
you’re talking about.”
“See, that alone is just adorable.”
Gavin glares at the teenager, who just
smirks to himself, before settling down again and letting the artist resume his
work.
The whole thing does take several hours,
occasionally interrupted by breaks for coffee, snacks and cigarettes. Theo had
no idea how taxing something like this can be, but although his part in it
consists of just sitting there, watching, the three of them talking every now
and then, he doesn’t mind. He actually likes it. He likes spending more time
with Max that doesn’t involve making out (not that he minds that at all, but
still).
Gavin is apparently a friend of the
family; Max's father knows Amanda from college, and met Gavin through her. Over
the years, Gavin has been like an uncle to Max, and it was through him he
discovered his love of tattoos. He's also the reason Max gets a discount, hence
him having so many tattoos at such a young age. At least, that's part of the
reason; Max seems to be devoid of the usual fear of branding something very
permanent into your skin, despite being only a teenager.
Hours later, on the walk home from the
tattoo parlor, Theo can tell that Max is uncomfortable and in pain, at least
from the way he fidgets as the fabric of his clothes brushes against his sore
back. There’s a layer of plastic taped over the fresh tattoo, not to be removed
for several hours, but still.
“How’s it feel?” Theo asks, hands in his
pockets. It’s already dark outside, and it’s a bit chilly. Max shrugs,
flinching slightly as he does.
“A bit raw,” he says. “But pretty good.”
Theo nods, and Max looks at him. He
doesn’t say anything for a few moments, worrying at his pierced bottom lip.
Those black-lined eyes look just a bit less composed than usual.
“Thanks for coming with me,” he eventually
says. “I mean, you didn’t have to. But the company was nice.”
Theo feels slightly surprised at the sudden
softness in Max's rough voice, but doesn’t mention it. Instead, he just smiles
nervously.
“Yeah, well,” he says. “I would have held
your hand, but you’d probably just punch me in the face.”
He meant it as a joke, and he can tell
that Max knows that, so he’s not surprised at the small smirk he gets in
return.
He is surprised, however, when Max
suddenly stops walking, making Theo stop as well. Max then glances down and
slips his hand into Theo’s jacket pocket, taking his hand and pulling it out
into the chilly night air. Theo looks down and just stares, as Max slowly laces
their fingers together, before he reanimates
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